


Certain Dark Things

by CrystalAzul



Series: Certain Dark Things (are) Meant to be loved [1]
Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types, Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Gotham (TV), The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Addams Family Fusion, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Batjokes, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Bruce Wayne, Developing Relationship, Don't copy to another site, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Murder Family, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Murder, Polyamory, Possessive Behavior, Psychopaths In Love, Romance, Secret Relationship, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23292202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalAzul/pseuds/CrystalAzul
Summary: To the public, they're Mortal Enemies; The Joker and The Batman, Wayne Enterprises VS Valeska Enterprises. In private the triad's relationship only grows stronger.They are quite comfortable with their relationship being what it is; extreme, intense, passionate, violent, caring, loving, but most importantly; A SECRET. The soulmate-triad have always made sure to hide each of their shared soulmarks after they appeared. All SIX of them. It's not that they're ashamed of each other. Quite the opposite. They are simply extremely possessive and private people leading VERY public lives.‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.' -- Pablo Neruda
Relationships: Batman/Joker (DCU), Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Jeremiah Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska, Jeremiah Valeska/Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Jerome Valeska/Bruce Wayne, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Certain Dark Things (are) Meant to be loved [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675069
Comments: 18
Kudos: 88





	1. If Everyone Cared

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I’m cherry-picking cannon and blending it like a smoothie. The Addams Family and Dc exist together in canon but I’m taking our favorite characters down a darker route. I’m using The Addams family 90’s movies and the 60’s Addams Family TV show mixed with the DC animated universe, the Gotham TV show and fandom, and the Batman: Nolan-Verse movies.
> 
>  **WARNING;**  
>  There will be; Alternating POV, Crime, Arson, Blood and Gore, Blood-Drinking, Human-Flesh-eating, Knifeplay, and Serial-Murder, in this fanfiction. This story’s mashed up crossover world and the characters in it will be OC. This is NOT the canon story, this is my fanfiction story. My story, my rules. Don't like, don't read.

#  **Chapter One. If Everyone Cared**

* * *

**Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Crest Hill, Wayne Manor

 **POV:** Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth **\-- Age:** 34 **\-- Species:** Human

“Look, I don't care what reasons they have! A forced soulmate reveal is beyond unethical! It's illegal and disgusting! You may as well force the kid to strip in front of the cameras! You can't let them do this Alfred!”

“Are you quite done?” Alfred demands put out by the commissioner’s demanding condescending tone and outraged rants. 

“No, I’m not.” Jim argues with fire and determination in his every fibre before deflating, “Look, Alfred, you're a good man. One of the few in Gotham. I'm just saying I don't think you realise just how much of a target you're continuing to paint on that boy's back. I mean,” Here the commissioner sighs and rubs his hand through his scruffy beard. “for years you've just been agreeing with all of this. I don't think you realize just what you've been a willing part of.”

“Jim, I realize exactly how bad things are in this city. Even with all the politics and glamour, I can see exactly what's becoming of the Waynes company. Believe me, I know what part I've been made to play. But,” here Alfred sighs, “what would you have me do, Jim? I couldn't just leave Bruce to be raised by strangers. Martha’s family weren't much better. You know how odd they are.” Alfred declares crossing his arms.

“But wouldn't they have been better than a cold and empty mansion? This place looks and feels like a mausoleum, Alfred. Surely you can see that?” Jim argues “Couldn't you add some, I don't know- Add some colour to the place? Everythings so fucking bleak. For god's sake, even Bruce dresses in monochrome and that's if you can get the kid to wear anything other than black!”

“That's my point exactly.” Alfred agrees. 

“What?” Jim asks cluelessly

“His mother's family.” Alfred prompts “What all do you know of them?”

“I know the Addams are known for their wealth and eccentrics,” Jim says clearly thinking things over. “The Addams have their own companies. Addams Enterprises and Wayne Enterprises were rivals for generations before Martha and Thomas were born. Most of the Addams family members have at least one PhD. That's about all I know. Why?”

“They're a goth family, Jim,” Alfred says with an eye-roll. “Every member I’ve met is completely and irreversibly obsessed with the macabre and the eccentric. They're pagans and deeply involved with the occult.” Alfred spits out in a near whisper. “Even Martha for all she tried to hide it from the public and even myself was deeply into such rot.”

“And what? You think Bruce is equally obsessed?” Jim asks confused and concerned. “There's nothing wrong with a healthy interest in myths or even in practising different religions.” 

“That's different.” Alfred brushes off. “Look, were getting off-topic. My point is; I've done my best by him, however, Bruce clearly takes after his mother. Despite that, I still view him as my ward.” Alfred says, pointedly before explaining plainly when he notices the confusion on the police commissioner’s face. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure my ward isn't forced into this. All the same, I do have a role to play.”

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Bristol Bay, Valeska Manor

 **POV:** Anthonio Julius Valeska -- Age: 43 **\-- Species:** Human

“C'mon, c'mon. Damn it, Jerome! Pick up-” Anthonio mumbles into the phone’s receiver while looking through the papers on his desk.

“‘Ello Daddio.” Jerome's voice chirps startling Anthonio out of his spiralling thoughts.

“That's- *sigh* That's not exactly how you use that word, Jerome.” Anthonio halfheartedly scolds with a laugh.

“Really?” Jerome asks and Anthonio can just see his eldest son tilting his head to the side like a confused bird.

“Yeah, its-” *Sigh* “Daddio means- It’s the 50’s equivalent of your generation's word 'Dude',” Anthonio explains exasperated.

“Huh.” Jerome mutters “Duly noted. So what's up? It’s not like you to call us.” Jerome asks point-blank. It's… refreshing talking to someone like Jerome who has no filter. But Jerome is… Jerome and it can be a bit of a mine-field talking to his son.

“I have some uh- bad news.” Anthonio hesitantly explains. He loves both his kids but… Jerome can be a bit… unpredictable when faced with serious situations. 

“Yeah, I figured as much. Jeremiah's been in a snit since looking over this month’s paperwork. He won't even let me use the damned laptop. So I don't know what's broke though that careful little mask of his. So, what'd you do?”

“It's not something I did its… *sigh* The media and the company shareholders are trying to pressure me into doing something. It's unethical, morally corrupt and just plain wrong.” Anthonio rants forgetting who he's talking to for a second just happy to get that off his chest.

“And you don't want to do… whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is?” Jerome asks thoughtfully.

“Yes exactly.” Anthonio adamantly agrees

“So say no. You're the CEO of Valeska enterprises. Your you're own boss, man. Tell those vulture wannabes you won't do whatever this thing is.” Jerome states sounding more like a life coach than his son.

“It's not that easy.” Anthonio sighs out while looking over the paperwork and letters spread out on his desk.

“It should be.” Jerome counters. “The damned company is named after us and our family founded the place. We’re the major shareholders. They work for us not the other way around.”

“No, I mean it won't be easy because it will require you and Jeremiah to go into hiding for a while to get out of this mess.” 

There's silence on the other end before Jerome growls out a flat, “What?” 

“I’m being pressured and my life is being threatened if you two don't attend some Galla and put your soulmarks on display.” Anthonio grits out annoyed. 

“The hell do they think they are?!” Jerome demands yelling into the receiver rightfully pissed off. “Who even does that?! What kind of sicko demands someone shows off their soulmark?!” Jerome asks before demanding “You're not gonna sit back and take this, are you?” 

“I won't give in, obviously.” Anthonio scoffs, “Still I can't and won't force either of you into this either. We need a plan.”

“Right, we need a plan,” Jerome repeats clearly in thought.

“Right now the only option I can see is for us to all go into hiding while somehow keeping in contact.” Anthonio says before explaining, “I need to know that you are both alive and safe but I can't know where you are. I’m sure the nutjobs orchestrating this will force it out of me otherwise.”

“Good plan, but we’ll need to keep the world updated as well.”

“Your brother could help with that. Jeremiah's a tech-genius where you're more hands-on genius.”

“We’ll keep you updated. And uh- Thanks for calling to keep us informed.” Jerome tacks on before hanging up.

“Well.. that went just about as well as it could have,” Anthonio mutters to himself.

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New York, New York City, Haly's Circus, The-Valeska-Twins Trailer

 **POV:** Jerome Anthonio Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

“What are we going to do, Miah?” Jerome whines to his twin brother while dramatically plopping his unwashed bed-head on Jeremiah’s shoulder. Jerome waits for a response before growling annoyed. 

He hates being ignored especially in favour of that damned laptop. Their shared laptop. It might as well just belong to Jeremiah at this point. Jerome sighs dejectedly from where he's fully laying atop his twin brother. Miah’s probably just busy with some time-sensitive project. Probably. Hopefully anyway. 

Jerome picks up his phone idly entertaining himself with beating the next level of candy crush before moving onto Tetris and then utterly destroying some locals at Scrabble. Bored again Jerome drops his stolen I-Phone back onto their bed. It's a ratty old full-size mattress he and Jeremiah managed to steal ages ago from an abandoned mattress warehouse in Fucksvile, Tennessee. 

“Right. Well, I’m cooking dinner.” Jerome declares decisively after his brother's empty stomach rumbles for the fourth time in just as many minutes. “Thank you, Jerome. Why whatever would I do without you, Jerome.” Jerome mumbles to himself as he rolls off his brother and onto their unwashed purple bed sheets before sighing and making his way through their remodelled 1960’s Airstream trailer. 

“God, that dork gets so lost in his head sometimes.” Jerome angrily mutters as he pulls on his black leather jacket and black boots from the back wall of their hallway-turned-walk-through-closet. He pockets a well cared for swiss army knife, his lighter and his wallet while unlocking the front door. 

Pausing in the open doorway Jerome spins on his heel letting the door slam shut. Jerome walks back to their dark bedroom watching as Jeremiah taps away on their laptop. It may as well be Jeremiah’s laptop for all that he's made use of the thing. Jerome stands there watching his genius twin, Jeremiah’s always been the smarter one, work away before sighing. He idly flips on the light swish watching as Jeremiah doesn't even register the change before grabbing a pen and a sticky note. He writes a note for Jeremiah to find when he's finally pulled out of whatever new project has caught his undivided attention. 

“Later, Miah. I’ll be back with dinner.” Jerome calls over his shoulder as he exits their trailer now fully immersed in the familiar and almost comforting roar of daily circus life.

* * *

**POV:** Narrator

The-Valeska-Twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, aren't like most people. Neither Jerome or Jeremiah have followed traditional culture since the day they were born. For one, they were born to a Roma woman who fled her multi-billionaire soulmate to re-join the Haly's Circus. Growing up they were on the road travelling the circuit when their father didn't manage to track them down for a social visit. 

They had it better than most in their situation. They spent every holiday with both parents present and regularly saw their father on TV or when they joined him for a political stunt. Still, both parents were largely absent. Their mother was a snake charmer and a whore while their father was constantly busy running Valeska Enterprises. 

The-Valeska-Twins worked for what they had. From the time they were four, Jerome and Jeremiah performed tricks for any spending money they needed. The same year the twins began working in the stables alongside the other non-essential carny acts for the right to eat with the main-acts. They learned everything they could from anyone willing to pass on their knowledge and skills.

For all that the circuit welcomes those rejected from mundane society, the Valeska twins still never quite fit in with Haly's Circus. Jerome has always been a little too excited by performing acrobats, working with the big cats and working with their mother’s trained cobras and pythons. Jeremiah has always been a little too good at building cannons and guns from scrap metal and overly invested in designing new death-defying stunts. Both twins have always laughed a little too madly and have humour a touch too morbid. Because no matter how welcoming or open-minded people are everyone has their limit. And anyone can see The-Valeska-Twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, aren't like most people. 

Jeremiah and Jerome know they aren't like other people. This fact has never bothered either twin overly much. They’ve made peace with that fact because at least they have each other. But despite all of that, both twins are positive they're not human. See, they have both required fresh blood to survive on for substance since they were eight. A fact that the twins discovered by accident after starving for a week. 

The incident led to the death of some random, would be, thief. Thankfully, even at the age of eight, they still had access to cable television, gasoline, and matches. No one suspected them and the remains were never found. Still, there was an investigation which naturally spread to the town’s visiting circus. The-Valeska-Twins vowed to become far more careful after that. 

The fact that they require blood to survive on doesn't bother the teens, never has. What endlessly irks both boys is the lack of information on what they are. It's a constant puzzle, an endless worry, and a recurring fight. Jerome is convinced they're vampires while the scientifically minded Jeremiah believes they're a historically common but well-hidden species of metahumans. 

Jerome and Jeremiah get along like a house on fire aside from the disagreement on what species they are. According to those around them, Jerome and Jeremiah get along too well. Even for twins. Codependent to a fault and weirdly attuned to each other’s thoughts and behaviour. The twins agree but they find it so much more fun to pretend they don't.


	2. If Everyone Cared

#  **Chapter Two. May Death Never Stop You**

* * *

**Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New York, New York City, Haly's Circus, The Valeska Twins Pickup Truck

 **POV:** Jerome Anthonio Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

“I wanna lot now, so come on! That's right, that's right! I said ma~ma but weer all crazee now!” Jerome belts out, making the turn along the parking lot full of aisle upon aisle of trucks and circus trailers. “I said ma~ma but weer all crazee now! I said ma~ma but weer all crazee now!” Jerome sings along while pulling into his and Jeremiah’s secondhand 1960’s Airstream trailer. 

They spent two years remodelling the trailer when they first got it. It was a four-part birthday gift from their father when they were 14. The second being a 1970 Chevy truck paired with technically-legal but fake IDs. The last gift was rights as joint heirs to the Valeska company. All in all an awesome birthday.

Currently, the remains of the homeless meth dealer Jerome spent the night slaughtering and butchering sit in the backseat of their Chevy with the rest of their dinner. The dead man's body is now cut up and wrapped in butcher paper neatly tied up with string and resting in an inconspicuous plastic bag. Not a drop of blood was wasted. The man’s blood now rests in reused wine and beer bottles, the cheap wine, and beer long since cleaned out. The useless parts and the odd cuts Jerome couldn't hull home were burned to ash in a dumpster. 

His improvised fire starter and custom detonator melted the dumpster into a molten puddle before the local firefighters were even called. A new personal record. To make his day even better, the fire was labelled a ‘freak accident’ by the firefighters and so-called ‘witnesses’. Thankfully, Jerome had a good vantage point of the chaos from the shop across the street. He was buying a pack of smokes and some cleaning supplies to feed his smoking addiction and Jeremiah's bizarre cleaning habits when the whole thing started. 

By the time anyone realized there even was a fire Jerome had been shopping for a good thirty minutes. He was in the back of the line waiting to check out when the screaming started. Store management kept everyone inside throughout the thing suspecting a terrorist attack, of all things. When Jerome and his fellow customers were let out the sun had long since come up. 

He went ahead and stopped at the farmers market blocking his route. At the very least a real meal should appease his brother’s worried nagging. Three bags full of fresh vegetables, farm fresh eggs, fresh milk, some baked goods and one jar of honey later he was driving to their temporary base of operations. 

Jerome yawns overly dramatic while exiting their toxic-green 70’s Chevy pickup truck. He's bending over gathering his haul when he feels eyes trailing down his spine and lingering on his ass. Lifting his weight in groceries, meat, and baked goods Jerome spins around raising an eyebrow at his mother’s latest boy-toy. Some bodybuilder type who thinks he's good enough to perform in the big leagues.

Mack, Micky or something whistles lowley when he sees the load Jerome’s caring. “Need a hand, kid?”

“Nope.” Jerome responds, turning his back on the fresh meat to open the freshly oiled door with a flourish and a shout of “Honey, I’m home!” He’s made it inside without breaking anything when the damned bodybuilder wannabe pops open the door to his tailor. “The hell man?!” Jerome demands while putting down his and Jerhmiha’s groceries. “This is private property.” Which it isn't, but whatever. “My property,” he amends. “You think just cause you're fucking my mother you can barge into my trailer?! The fucks wrong with you?!”

Mack, or whatever his name is, just ignores him. “Didn't know you had a girl.” 

“And why the hell is it your business if I did?” Jerome demands pulling out his pistol, naturally registered on Jeremiah’s instance.

“Relax kid, I just wanna meet the girl,” Mack says leaning casually against the trailer wall.

“Listen, dipshit, there is no girl alright?!” Jerome shouts thoroughly pissed off.

“She know' you ain't got your marks yet?” Mack presses.

“What are you deaf AND stupid?” Jerome demands not breaking eye contact with the suddenly unsure newbie. “I said there is no fucking girl in my life a’ight?! Now get the fuck outta here!”

“Hey look, man, I’m just trying to-”

“Why ya gotta shout at the TV all the time, Jay?” Jeremiah whines wobbling into the kitchen from the walkthrough closet that leads to their bathroom and bedroom. “Woke me up from a damn good dream,” he complains. “You ‘least get food while you *YaWN* were out?” Jeremiah demands.

“Yeah. Course I did. You slept while I was gone, Miah?” Jerome asks, sparing his blurry eyed brother a glance and moving to shield him with his body. Despite not knowing whatever the hell they are they have both worked out the basics. One being they need blood to live. The second being they can't fall asleep for nothing. The third being they can't be killed.

“Ye~ah” Jeremiah lies with a yawn before colliding with Jerome’s back and freezing in place. “Jay?” Jeremiah asks hesitantly.

“We got company, Miah,” Jerome explains feeling his twin peek around his shoulder and stiffen. “Jeremiah, meet Mack, our mother’s latest conquest. Mack, this is my twin brother Jeremiah.”

“Name’s Mitch actually.” The overconfident boy-toy corrects while eyeing them up like they're stripers putting on a show and not two underaged kids fully dressed in their own damn home. “Didn't realize there were two of you.” Mack jokes with a leer aimed at them both. “You'd think she’d remember something so important .”

“Not our fault mother dearest tends to forget we exist and hardly remembers one of us on a good day.” Jerome snarls, while Jeremiah stumbles forward slipping something sharp, likely one of his small blades, into his jacket pocket. 

“Yeah, I’ll uh, I’m just gonna go-” Jeremiah stumbles over his words faking being shy, defenceless and unsure.

“Go on an’ get dressed for tonight's show Miah.” Jerome orders. That's apparently all the incentive his baby-brother needs to leave. Behind him, the sounds of Jeremiah pilfering the closet that takes up half their trailer creates a steady white noise to cover the roar of the circus nightlife slowly coming alive. 

“So Jerome, right?” Mack asks, still leaning against the only exit to the trailer. “Your brother’s name's Jeremiah so that makes you Jerome,” Mack says decisively and with a small self-satisfied smile. “How about you and I make a deal.”

“How about we don't?” Jerome counters, crossing his arms, the picture of a defiant and guileless teen rather than the hunter hidden among the prey that he is.

“Come on, work with me here, kid.” Mack pleaded the picture of innocence like he hadn't just been checking out two teenagers half his age a moment prior. “I’m gonna be with your Mom long term. Don't that mean somethin’ to you.”

“No.” Jerome counters watching the guy’s face fall into a war of confusion, anger, and annoyance. 

While his mom’s newest boy-toy battles within his mind Jerome moves away from his position blocking the hallway full of clothes, shoes, makeup, and gear. In three quick strides, Jerome's in the kitchen where he begins to put away groceries. Milk’s still cold and thankfully he didn't buy anything that could melt. Meat’s still fresh and the milk's fine so the eggs should be too. Once he has everything put away and secured for the road Jerome begins pulling out; knives, a frying pan, a cutting board, and a baking sheet.

The home-invading creep watches him move around his own damn kitchen like he's working out a particularly complex puzzle. Meanwhile, Jerome begins preparing the meat for tonight's dinner. Next, he moves on to breakfast. Veggie and cheese omelettes, human-bacon, and a side of freshly cut fruit and toast. Nothing fancy, that's Jeremiah's thing, but just extravagant enough to appeal to his brother’s finer taste. They won't get nutrients from anything but the beer and the human-bacon but it's a semblance of normality they need. Not to mention a full meal tastes better than strat blood and meat.

“Look, kid, I get this must be a shock seein’ your mom with someone new-”

Jerome feels a bubble of laughter just his side of crazed well up inside him. Never one to deny himself something Jerome lets the dam break. It’s only when he comes down from his high that Jerome realizes he's still holding his cutting knife. Jerome spares the apparently clueless, terrified, and naive boy-toy an amused grin. 

“You really think you're her first?” Jerome taunts and he can't help the words that follow that sentence, they just flow out, it's too perfect of an opportunity, really. “Grow up. You're not even her fifth this year. And you call me a kid.” Jerome barks out a mad cackle borderline a giggle before returning to the stove to flip the flat egg fried in the human-bacon’s blood-juices.

“I- There couldn't have been that many. It's only March!” the apparent idiot stutters.

“It’s April actually.” Jeremiah gently corrects striding into the kitchen while adjusting the cufflinks to his Master Magician costume. “As for our Mother, she's known for her promiscuity. She left our father and a' rather comfortable life in Gotham due to the scandal she caused.”

“What happened?” Mack asks, clearly distressed and panicking.

“Don't know. We weren't exactly born yet, Mack.” Jerome explains from where he's cutting up a pepper. “Mother had to do a DNA test to prove relation. Nearly lost us our rights as heirs to his company.”

“It’s Mitch. And, look, kid. Is your father-”

“Yes, he's her soulmate, no he's not completely outta the picture. Mother still hooks up with him from time to time and we spend a couppla weeks with him here and there.” Jerome explains to Mack before addressing his brother. “Miah, mind taking over for me? It's just omelettes, bacon, and toast but there's fruit if you want some.”

“Yeah, Jay. Go on and get dressed for the show.” Jeremiah says, putting away his hardwon I-phone, beat some two-bit hack for the damn thing rather than swiping one like a normal person. “We’re the magical act. I’ll fill you in over dinner.”

“Kay.” Jerome agrees while moving into the hall pausing to grab tonight's costume, his boots, and his eyeliner.

“What's your father's name?” The boy-toy demands clearly in the early stages of denial.

“Anthony J. Valeska.” Jeremiah replies absentmindedly “Hey Miah, you grab anything to drink other than beer and wine?!”

“Milk’s in the fridge!” Jerome calls back heading into their room while keeping an ear out for his brother.

“Valeska? She kept his name?” Boy-toy Mack demands as Jerome makes his way into the bedroom to change. 

“Well they are soulmates not to mention they're married,” Jeremiah responds sarcastically to the sound of breakfast sizzling and a knife chopping.

“Look just how,- ugh- your dad, Valeska the lawyers or the Valeska clothing line?”

“Both,” Jeremiah responds. While his twin sounds pitying, Jerome knows his brother’s fighting off his own laughter at another of their mother’s boy-toys finding out the truth. "Owns an oil company too. Despite everything, Mother must have seen some fault in him. She re-joined Haley's Circus before they had even started the court process for custody rights. Are you staying for breakfast?"

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Crest Hill, Wayne Manor

 **POV:** Bruce Azrael Wayne-Addams **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

Bruce finishes triple checking the recipients of his mass text message that he spent the past hour writing and proofreading. He hits send and tucks his burner cell back into his black leather satchel. As he does so, the sound of Alfred’s heartbeat nears the hallway connecting to his bedroom door. Bruce listens as Alfred climbs the massive staircase. 

From inside his ensuite bathroom, Bruce finishes double-checking his supplies. He has a change of clothes, two-burner cell’s, a fake ID, three switchblades, a gun, and enough cash to live lavishly for a year at least. Everything then swiftly goes back into his satchel before he tucks it within his school backpack. By the time his butler knocks on the bedroom door his school backpack appears to be packed and on his bed. 

“Come in,” Bruce calls while heading back into his ensuite bathroom.

“Master Bruce?”

“Hum?” Bruce hums around his toothbrush while poking his head out of the bathroom suite.

“Ah, good. You’re dressed. I was worried I had let you oversleep once again.” Alfred says pleased while Bruce finishes brushing his teeth. “Your chauffeur is on his way over. You will need to be ready for breakfast within the hour if you want to eat.”

“My school does serve food you know,” Bruce says with a fond smile walking out of the bathroom while brushing his hair 

“I would hate for you to resort to eating whatever it is schools serve and consider food, Master Bruce,” Alfred explains before making his way back out. “Today the chef and kitchen staff have prepared your favourite chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate chip waffles. Your pancakes and waffles are paired with fried eggs, hash browns, toast, sausages, and bacon, along with an assorted selection of fruit and fruit syrups. Shall we expect you to be down before the food spoils, sir?”

“Yes, inform the kitchen I’ll be down in five minutes,” Bruce says while checking twitter on his Wayne-tech smartphone. 

“Very well, sir,” Alfred says before bowing and taking his leave.

Bruce sighs in relief once Alfred’s gone. He’s beyond glad he managed to slip out, grab an extra pair of clothes and eat before Alfred came to ‘wake him up’. Had he gone any longer without real food he'd have gone into bloodlust. Then he may have killed one of his own staff members, again. As it is he's still hungry. Thankfully, Bruce won't be stuck making regular appearances in the manor or anywhere else for that matter for much longer.

* * *

 **POV:** Narrator

Depending upon who you ask, the average Gothamite could probably recite the life story of the local celebrities almost as well as giving a quick summary of world history. That is to say not entirely accurate, just consistent enough with what the general population knows or suspects to be the truth. Bruce Wayne is no exception to this rule of thumb. 

Bruce Wayne was born under the constant spotlight and scrutiny of the general public. As the son and heir of two world-renowned surgeons who doubled as the CEOs and co-owners of Wayne enterprises, that's... to be expected. Said spotlight and public scrutiny only got _worse_ after Bruce Wayne was witness to his parent's _double-murder_ and orphaned _at eight_.

The thing that _no one knows_ or even _suspects_ is that Bruce Wayne _technically died_ that night in the dark crime-ridden alley. _Bruce Wayne died_ at the tender age of eight alongside his parents. The only thing that saved him was his diluted vampiric-metahuman blood. The DNA from his mother's side finally kicked in with a _vengeance_. That was his only saving grace. 

So, before his parents' bodies could become cold from their massive blood loss Bruce Wayne _died_ only to open his eyes again. Except his body was no longer strictly human if it ever was before. You see, Martha and Thomas Wayne kept a secret from the public. A secret that's hidden so deeply it cost them their lives. For that is what happens when you deny your inherent nature to the point that they did. You lose yourself in the process of forced ignorance. 

Martha Wayne may have died a human but she was NOT born one. Martha Wayne was born into the Addams family. The Addams Family have a rich metahuman history dating back to pre-medieval times. A mutation that's similar enough to vampires that most supernatural and metahuman communities consider them an off branch of their undead. Every soulmate of an Addams by blood shares this mutation. 

Each variation of the Addams mutation is different but with similar components. The CEO’s Dr Thomas Wayne and Dr Martha Wayne nee Addams shared **_one of the weakest_** variations of the Addams mutation in their family's recorded history. It, unfortunately, resulted in their shocking death by gunshot wounds when Bruce was eight. No other Addams has ever died from something so trivial.

Every Addams family member Bruce has met are immune to all known poisons and toxins. When exposed to new chemical combinations most Addams family members will quickly build immunity. _Nearly every_ Addams family member is immune to scars and death by injury, his parents being a rare exception. His parents were an exception to most things Addams. Bruce’s parents kept what manifested of their nature _hidden_. Still, they were not ashamed and enjoyed participating in what Addams traditions they could survive.

Most Addams members prefer night to day and shadows to sunlight. This is because their mutation makes them naturally nocturnal and able to control, communicate and even travel by shadows. Finally, most Addams family members are immune to a permanent death short of; being burned alive, being cremated, falling into a vault of acid or falling into a vault of nuclear waste. Then again, some members of the family can withstand such things easily. All this together means an Addams will generally have a dark and sadistic sense of humour. Most go as far as to prefer the macabre and eccentric outcasts over general society. 

Growing up in the spotlight as one of Gotham's elite, Bruce Wayne has done his best to hide his own abilities and natural excitement in the face of violence and anything not strictly _mundane_. Still, no matter _how hard_ Bruce has always tried to perfect his act it doesn't stop it from being just that, _an act_. He doesn’t tell Alfred. Alfred doesn't even _know_ about the family mutation. Still, Bruce _thinks Alfred knows he's acting_ if nothing else. Bruce can see the displeasure in his butler turned surrogate father's face. He can **_see_** the reserved hope in Alfred’s eyes when Bruce interacts with _anyone_. 

And _it should_ hurt to disappoint Alfred each time. Logically **_he knows_ **_he should_ ** _feel guilt_** **,** **_feel something_** other than fond annoyance. But... the thing is.. Bruce Wayne _died_ at eight years old. At the tender age of eight, **Bruce Wayne died** _._ **He died** on cold hard pavement in a side alley in Gotham City’s Narrows. **He died** clinging to his mother's black jacket. **Bruce Wayne died** sucking in shuddering breaths with a bullet hole in his left lung cavity, a wooden stake in the centre of his neck, and a knife lodged in his right kneecap. That was nine years ago. Bruce Wayne is turning 16 this week. 

No one, not even Alfred the family butter _who became so much more than that_ , knows that **Bruce Wayne died that night**. _No one knows Bruce Wayne died_ ** _because Bruce Wayne got up again_ ** . His mother's family knows, _of course, they do_ , but _it's_ ** _normal_** _for their family_. It's not normal for a human. Bruce Wayne hasn't been human since he died with a silver bullet to his left lung and heart, a wooden stake shoved through his windpipe and a poison coated ritual dagger piercing through the bones of his right leg. Bruce Wayne was never exactly _human,_ to begin with.

And even before _that fateful night,_ Bruce Wayne never felt the _guilt_ of disappointing someone. Back then he never knew other people did. And… and it's not that he's closed off, even though he is. And… it's _not_ that he _can't love_ or _feel empathy_ or even that he can't feel new emotions _because_ **he can**. Bruce feels so much that it hurts when he lets it, and _sometimes,_ sometimes emotions hurt him even when he blocks them out. It’s just that… he can't feel _some things_. 

He's not wired that way. His brain just... doesn't make the connection, doesn't understand. _It doesn't_ **compute**. Logically, logically, Bruce Wayne knows he's supposed to feel… _something._ And he's gotten better at acting like he does feel the missing emotions but that's just a mask. _A really good mask,_ but a mask nonetheless.

See, Bruce was given to be raised by Alfred when his parents died _despite the fact_ ** _his parents Will's_ **_explicitly stated_ that he was to be raised by his mother's family in the event of their deaths. Instead of _following his parents' Will’s_ though the courts decided it would be better for the Wayne heir to be raised in Gotham City by the family’s staff. The family lawyers _steadfastly refused_ to allow _the only heir_ of Wayne Enterprises to _live_ with his remaining family. 

Bruce Wayne was to be raised by the Wayne family staff in Gotham City, New Jersey. Bruce Wayne was only to spend _weekends_ and _school vacations_ with his mother's family. Exceptions were made for _formal family gatherings_ _but that was it_. The Addams family lawyers fought tooth and nail but the Wayne family lawyers _refused to budge an inch_. The judge and jury evidently agreed with Wayne Enterprises or, far more likely, they were paid off. 

The public was outraged. They still are. They _still_ send him pitying looks when they _think_ he's not watching. Everyone from the uppercut to the homeless walking the streets felt _personally_ attacked by the court's decision. It quickly became a nationwide scandal. Riots raged Gotham City and the nation at large. _Everyone_ from Doctors and Scientists to celebrities and talk show hosts sided with the orphaned Wayne heir and his mother's family. 

  * ‘A child should be raised by their family’ they said. 
  * ‘A child should not be forced to grow up in an empty home’ they cried. 
  * ‘What right do you have to force your boss to grow up isolated and alone’ they screamed. 
  * ‘Who do you think you are’ they raged. 
  * ‘Who will be next’ they demanded.



Ultimately the prenuptial agreement and the Last Will and Testaments of Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne nee Addams were _ignored_. Bruce Wayne, heir of Wayne enterprises, would grow up raised by his butler and staff but otherwise _isolated_ and _alone_ in the empty halls of Wayne Manor. His only contact with his family outside of weekends and holidays were phone calls, care packages, and letters. 

Despite the ability to legally do so Bruce rarely visited his family during the weekends. Wayne Manor is located in Gotham City in the state of New Jersey. His _closest_ relatives live in the Addams Manor located in New York City in the state of New York. As his butler and surrogate father Alfred Pennyworth would so often explain, ‘It simply isn't practical to visit every weekend, Master Bruce’.

If Thomas Wayne and Martha Wayne nee Addams had trusted the family butler Alfred Pennyworth with the family secret perhaps this story would be different. But Martha Wayne nee Addams **_did not_** trust easily. While Thomas Wayne viewed Alfred as a brother he never grew to trust the man _with this secret_. Their son, Bruce Wayne, and Martha’s maiden family, the Addams, knew this. They trusted Thomas and Martha’s instincts no matter how _diluted_ their vampiric nature and instincts. 

While _not even Bruce_ could _understand_ his parent's desire to so callously risk death and bloodlust by so often **_refusing real food_** , **_refusing blood,_** _he knew_ there must have been a reason. One does not simply _hide_ such a large part of themselves from _their family_ without a reason. So, despite being a mere eight-year-old in the beginning Bruce quickly learned to hide his vampiric nature from his staff, _from Alfred,_ and from the world at large. His mother's family, the Addams, helped him where they could. 

They sent copies of textbooks disguised as mythology, children's horror and fantasy stories alongside baked goods and tea bags infused with fresh blood in their monthly care packages. The various Addams clan members and family members made sure to call regularly and switch topics _the moment_ they suspected someone, _anyone_ , was listening in. Still, _Bruce had to raise himself_ and _teach himself_ from what information could be given without raising any alarms in his caretaker's head. It was... hard, but never let it be said that Bruce is not persistent.

Bruce was left _little choice_ but to learn to hunt for his own food, _for his own blood_. A newborn vampire with a family and clan who loved and supported him but who he was denied from seeing. A family and clan he was kept away from by human laws born of both good intentions and corrupt greed. While the Wayne family butler Alfred Pennyworth _eventually_ became a _surrogate father_ to Bruce, _not even he knew_ of his charge’s unique vampiric requirements and needs. Alfred Pennyworth _did not know_ of his surrogate son’s _inhuman_ nature. Thus Bruce grew up isolated and alone. 

Bruce Wayne taught himself to hunt for food, **_for blood_** _,_ _on his own_ using decade-old hunting and tracking books from the Wayne family library. The practical knowledge Bruce gained from reading about **_humans hunting foxes through the trees_** was sketchy at best. His application of learning to **_hunt human_** **prey** ** _in a city_** , _on his own_ , had a rough start. He was stabbed in the heart with a switchblade on his first hunt and while his jeans were salvageable his T-shirt was ruined. 

Still, even without anything more than the switchblade stolen from his first victim his prey were all labelled as; muggings gone wrong, suicides, freak animal attacks, and on one especially _bizarre_ occasion a messy hit and run. Most, not all _but most_ , survived the encounter even if they didn't remember the attack or even _being_ attacked.

Bruce has never felt guilty for killing for food, for killing to preserve his anonymity, or for killing in self-defence. Despite the _strictly black and white_ moral lessons Alfred always seems to heap on him as _bizarre bedtime stories_ Bruce has **never** seen the world in such sharp contrast. The world may be monotone but only the edges are strictly black and white, the rest is painted in varying shades of grey. 

Speaking of darkness and bedtime; _to this day,_ **_every night,_ ** Alfred will wait outside his door for an hour, sometimes more, to ensure he has fallen asleep. The problem is he's not human. Bruce Wayne is a Vampiric-Metahuman. Vampires don't sleep. **_They can't sleep._ ** Vampires are undead. You stop being able to sleep once you die. He's not sure what excuse his mother and father had, insomnia most likely, but the same _clearly_ hasn't worked for him. 

Within _four months_ of his vampiric nature awakening and gaining his metahuman abilities, Bruce taught himself to _feign sleeping_. He was eight. At eight years old and a newborn vampire Bruce Wayne had to begin raising himself. Soon after learning to feign sleep, Bruce learned how to seemingly awaken from _nonexistent_ nightmares when caught moving around restlessly in his massive bed. A year later Bruce taught himself to **hear** and **identify** the slightest noise and **see** beyond his closed eyelids during those long listless nights. The ability has served him well both when waiting for Alfred or another staff member to pass his door and while hunting. Once Bruce mastered the art of lying still, motionless, breathing in and out in a calm meditative state, his butler seemed to calm down. 

Thankfully Bruce Wayne grew up spending **_every summer_** and **_every winter_** vacation at the Addams family mansion at 0001 Cemetery Lane, in New York City. It is only thanks to his cousins Gomez and Fester Addams that he's grown to accept himself and his own darkness rather than living ‘a shell of man’ as his cousin Gomez Addams has always put it. 

Alfred tries, _he really really does_ , but that doesn't stop his lessons and care from being for a _human_ child. It has never helped that Alfred has maintained the social distance between them. Alfred has _refused_ to interact with him more than what is _proper_ of a butler of his station. So while Bruce loves Alfred _, loves him like a surrogate father,_ it doesn't stop him from _keeping_ ** _his secrets_** because they _both_ still partly view him _as staff_.

Bruce’s fondest childhood memories don't take place in Wayne Manor or even in Gotham for all that it's his home, **_his territory_ ** . Bruce has fond memories of slipping through the Manor’s shadows and hunting Gotham's streets at night, stalking his prey. His fondest childhood memories, however, take place in New York. For all that Gotham’s his home, **his territory** , it's never been safe. 

He's never felt free to be himself in Gotham. Not like when he's hanging out with his cousins Gomez and Fester. No matter _how old_ they became they were never told to ‘grow up’ or to ‘stop playing such childish games’. Instead, so long as chores and summer course work were completed they were left to their own devices. In response, their games simply became more intricate as the years went on. 

  * Practising throwing daggers, shooting arrows, and shooting bullets at walls turned into aiming at each other. They would duck out of the way or catch one said object midair with their limbs, teeth or another projectile. Any injury, regardless of where it hit, healed within the hour.
  * Playing hide-and-seek in the family graveyard and in the Addams Family Manor turned into playing a hunting game of parkour-hide-and-seek everywhere from the attic and the dungeon to the chimney and the rooftop. 
  * Practising with their state-of-the-art chemistry sets evolved into trying to create new and existing chemical compounds. That soon evolved into testing them out on everything from plants and animals to themselves.
  * Learning about poisons and toxins advanced to testing out the effects of poisons and toxins on everything from plants and animals to themselves.
  * Reading the family witchcraft gilmores switched to practising the spells in the books. Which progressed to Aunt Eudora Addams teaching them everything she knows and eventually hiring tutors.
  * Studying the family necromancy gilmores progressed to playing ‘wake the dead’ with the family sleeping in the graveyard. Occasionally some family members would choose to remain awake. That was always how Bruce, Fester, and Gomez found themselves listening attentively to Uncle Repeli Addams teaching them how to create fake IDs, a fake digital background, and new lives.
  * Fencing and sword-fighting lessons advanced to mock battles debating whatever subject caught their fancy. You not only had to defend your point you had to defend yourself least you lose the game.
  * Waltzing to music played by organ, radio and occasionally even the piano turned into crashing extravagant ballroom parties where no one thought to question their family for showing up uninvited. 
  * Playing the organ, piano, flute, and violin before getting bored and composing their own music evolved to an extraordinarily profitable side business as street-musicians turned orchestra proteges. This, of course, had the unintended benefit of helping them get invited to more galas and balls.
  * Singing along to the radio or making up a new song altogether turned into a profitable career as unknown but world-renowned songwriters and playwrights.
  * Building computers, cars, elaborate traps, and bombs from scratch evolved into Bruce, Fester and Gomez creating secret identities to create weapons and tanks for Addams Enterprises and Wayne Enterprises.



Unfortunately, as stated before, Bruce only sees his family during school vacation and the odd weekends. That leaves the school year empty, boring and dull. He's gotten surprisingly good at slipping out of the public eye, walking around _unseen_ and ditching class as a result. His shadow walking and invisibility spells far surpass anything his cousins have been able to accomplish. Unfortunately, his explosions and sword fighting are subpar compared to cousin Gomez and cousin Fester

The best part is _no one suspects_ he's anything more than an ordinary moody yet completely undisciplined teenager. He’s good with people, or so it seems to those on the outside. But the outgoing _jock_ with _just enough_ book smarts to be surprising is just an act, a mask. He wears it _so long_ sometimes it feels super glued to his face. Most days however his mask just falls off as soon as he's alone or with **his family** or **his clan**.

If given a choice Bruce would have preferred to be left alone, left to be himself, to be _free of all the expectations_ everyone seems to have for him. Preferred to be given a book to read, something to build, a car to repair, or maybe get in a fight and beat someone bloody for the fun of it. But that would **_ruin_** _his perfect image_ so he doesn't do any of those things. At least not around people who know him, _people who know_ **his mask**. Most days it all gets too much, becomes too much to deal with. The act and the mask become harder to maintain. Which is why he has an agreement with Alfred. 

The mask is why he worked to have free access to his family's properties and the free time to check upon them alone. His work finally paid off last year. Now he secretly has an entire apartment complex all to himself despite only currently being 15. It's the only place in Gotham he feels completely free of his mask. Despite being _in the very centre of The Narrows_ and in the very neighbourhood he died in. It's ironic really, that The Narrows are _the only place the Prince of Gotham feels like himself_. The Prince of Gotham can only be himself when _surrounded by the memory of his_ **first death**. Naturally, that's _exactly_ where Bruce heads the week of his 16th birthday.

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 6th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City

 **POV:** Bruce Azrael Wayne-Addams **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

Bruce made sure to leave his phone and the trackers Alfred _thinks_ he doesn't know about at the manor. Only his best friend Selina Kyle knows the apartment is his and he'd like to keep it that way. Her birthday is this month as well which is why he'll likely be gone longer than a week. They plan to spend the month together in hiding.

It's not that he thinks he's Selina’s soulmate. It would be presumptuous of him to think anyone is at this point. It’s simply Selina’s just as against the whole forced soulmate reveal as he is. They plan to wait out the media storm and soon to be nationwide police search for them in his apartment. It's not the best plan they came up with but it's now their only viable option. 

After Bruce’s chauffeur drops him off at the gates of Gotham Academy Bruce slips into the crowds of chatting students. He nods to Selina who's making her own pre-planned getaway before following a group of stoners crossing the street. Once he's away from school property Bruce slips into a crowd of distracted upperclassmen skipping class. 

Two blocks later he’s surrounded by another group of spoilt rich brats rushing into a coffee shop from their limo. Bruce doesn't even bother fighting the pull of bodies around him. He follows the group to the counter and buys an overpriced coffee making sure to pay in cash before slipping into the staff bathroom. After entering Bruce quickly scales the wall, slips out the window, and drops onto a half-filled dumpster in one of Gotham's many side alleys. 

After checking for security cameras, of which there are thankfully none, Bruce climbs out of the dumpster and begins striping. He pulls off his tweed jacket, knit vest, polo overshirt, and khaki trousers. He thought ahead and wore the school uniform over his ripped jeans and black AC/DC T-shirt. Bruce then pulls his leather jacket, sunglasses, and combat boots out of his leather satchel, hidden in his backpack.

Once he's dressed Bruce drops his folded school uniform into his backpack which he dumps in an empty crate. He downs the last of his caramel-coffee while slipping on his leather satchel. Then Bruce tosses his now empty coffee cup into the dumpster under the open bathroom window before beginning a steady pace through Gotham's interconnecting back alleys. 

An hour later Bruce is in Gotham’s Chinatown. He stops to buy a massive order of takeout indulging in his and Selina’s Chinese addiction before hailing a cab to the city subway. It takes an entire round trip before he's joined by Selina Kyle. She's dressed in her preferred punk rock ensemble rather than her iconic classy and modest look most of Gotham's upper class know her by. They move to sit, both waiting for the stop in the Lower East Side of The Narrows. 

Selina passes the time by re-teaching him how to apply eyeliner then painting both their nails matte black. Bruce humours her listening intently while simultaneously beating some English Major on the Scrabble App. A poorly disguised truancy officer passes through their compartment three times without noticing anything amiss. When the truancy officer leaves for the last time Selina’s curled up under his arm and introducing him to yet another new punk band. She's trying to get him to agree to buy tickets to the concert as the officer loudly answers a call from the station.

By the time they make it to Bruce’s three-bedroom apartment, it’s midafternoon. No doubt the school’s already called Alfred but it's too soon for anyone to realize he's effectively missing. Bruce skips school only to show up well past midnight often enough for Alfred and the city police to have a set speech prepared. 

Bruce's been legally emancipated since he was 14. He co-owns every school in Gotham City and he has always completed his work. They can't legally suspend or expel him without cause, despite desperately wanting to. Not to mention they have no reason to force him to stay in Gotham anymore. He's practically a free man. But, Bruce couldn't just up and leave Selina. Selina doesn't trust anyone else with her secrets and Bruce couldn't just leave her on her own. 

Her own parents, the infamous mob boss Rex Calabrese and his second-in-command Maria Calabrese, abandoned Selina when she was five. Selina was adopted by Adam Kyle and Denise Kyle, two of Gotham’s elite socialites. Despite living with them since she was five and having been named their heir, Adam Kyle and Denise Kyle, still haven't realized Selina was born to the two notorious metahumans that run Gothmam’s Underworld or that their adoptive daughter shares her birth parents metahuman genes. 


	3. The Show Must Go On

#  **Chapter Three. The Show Must Go On**

* * *

**Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Jersey City, Haly's Circus, Valeska Twins camper

 **POV:** Jerome Anthonio Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

“Please, please tell me you have a plan, Miah. I won't let that- that bastard and our wrench of a mother see our marks!” Jerome hisses out while wrapping his arms around his twin's waist before spinning around and beginning to pace. “And the NERVE of the media! Ignoring our existence for years! NOW they demand we show OUR MARKS so THEY can broadcast them to the world! I WON'T STAND FOR IT!” Jerome cries out before falling face-first into their freshly washed lime-green bed sheets and screaming incomprehensibly into a purple and green striped pillow.

Jeremiah rolls his eyes at his brother's antics well used to reading between the lines by now. “Do you honestly think _so little_ of me, Jerome?” Jeremiah asks, sparing his twin a teasing glance before settling himself and his, their, laptop as close as to Jerome as he can. “Do you _honestly_ believe I wouldn't have put _new_ contingency plans in place once Mother so rudely declared her vile plan? I want to protect our matches as much as you do, Jay.”

Jerome slowly lifts his head and eyes his brother in contemplative silence before lifting a single ginger eyebrow. “Well, let's hear the ingenious plan that crazy brain of yours has come up with, Miah.”

Jeremiah smiles widely before hitting send on the email he was typing and pulling Jerome ever closer to him on their bed. He's half afraid after their marks come in that they'll have to give this up, the comfort and warmth they so freely offer each other. He's also found himself half-wishing that Jerome shares his mark, whatever type of mark it turns out to be. It's not right. Jeremiah knows it's not right to try and choose your soulmate. It can't be done after all. Still, he can't help to wish for his match to wind up being Jerome. Twin or not, he's never been closer to anyone than his brother.

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Lower East Side of The Narrows, Park Row Apartments, Penthouse Suite

 **POV:** Selina Maria Kyle **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Hellcat-Metahuman-Hybrid

Selina wakes from her cat-nap groggy, tired and irritable rather than refreshed and recharged as she had clearly hoped and so foolishly expected. She looks around her familiar bedroom blurry-eyed and miffed for all of three minutes. Her enhanced eyesight finally lands on the source of the obnoxious vibrating and chirping noise by the backlit window. It's her backup burner cell. Someone’s trying to contact her. Despite finally locating the offending noise Selina steadfast remains under her comfy and warm nest of gold and black blankets and pillows. She only moves to pull a fluffy blanket closer to her.

Outside her bulletproof bay window, the sun rises ever higher over Gotham City. It spreads golden and red rays of light over the normally pitch-black Gotham City skyline turning the normally dark and murky waters of the Gotham river a clear crystalline blue. It's a spectacular postcard-worthy view only available from Downtown Gotham’s exclusive high-rises or the deepest slums of The Narrows. Judging by the squeal of tires, the occasional gunshot and the angry shouting Selina's in The Narrows and not her parent's penthouse apartment. Which means as sure as Gotham’s a shithole of a city, Bruce will rescue her from the damned cell-phone that dared to interrupt her sleep.

She peaks a sleep mused head out of her nest as her best friend storms into the room with a scowl. “Are you going to get that?” Bruce growls.

“Meh.” *YaWN** “Guua~oope.” Selina mumbles before furrowed her brows confused. That's _not_ what she meant to say. She opens her mouth to respond again but *YAWns* again instead before beginning to drift off again. She just needs 15 more minutes, an hour maybe. Then she’ll be ready to finalize Bruce’s birthday surprise. They’re both more night-owls than the chipper morning birds they pretend to be to the public and the media anyway.

She distantly hears Bruce give a put upon sigh and mumble something along the lines of. “I’m going to let you sleep but I need you to-” and she's out like a light. She doesn't see him roll his eyes, huff, walk out and close the door. But then again, she's asleep so she doesn't really care.

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Lower East Side of The Narrows, Park Row Apartments, Penthouse Suite

 **POV:** Bruce Wayne **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

After turning the volume down on Selina’s second burner phone, her backup phone which she shouldn't even be used except for in emergencies, Bruce groggily makes his way to the kitchen. Now that he's been interrupted he may as well eat… something. Doing a full work out tends to burn his reserves rather quickly. It makes him the closest he can get to being tired as an undead metahuman-vampire hybrid. Thankfully he and Selina take turns cleaning out and stocking the fridge with perishables. With both of them being metahumans they have a very… particular diet. He has a primarily vampiric diet while Selena has more feline cravings. 

Despite what Alfred and the various chefs seem to think Bruce knows how to cook. He and Seline tend to take turns with the daily household chores and split the jobs _mostly_ equal. With a deep *YAWn* Bruce begins the process of making chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and bacon. He uses human-blood as a substitute for the eggs in the pancakes and human flesh as the meat before frying the eggs in the juices from the bacon fat. At least he'll get some nutrients from them that way. Not to mention eggs have _always_ tasted better fried in grease. 

Selina doesn't mind the change in flavour and despite knowing the reason for it she has yet to complain once. He imagines it simply tastes odd, like how it tastes for him when she replaces the meat in; stew, soup, and casserole with mice, rabbits, or squirrels. Not that Selina doesn't eat human flesh on her own. After all, they met in the sewers as children when they were both disposing of chopped up dead bodies. 

Officially, however, they met three years after that. The story is he saved her from getting mugged after school back in 5th grade. Alfred and Selena's parents were more than happy to encourage their friendship along with joint gymnastics and martial arts lessons. As far as Alfred is aware he traded the gymnastics lessons for fencing lessons the summer before ninth grade. On her mother’s instance; Selina now takes ballet instead of martial arts. 

In reality, they simply found new teachers willing to work off the record while teaching them additional… less orthodox lessons. Floor gymnastics quickly turned into aerial-gymnastics and martial arts lessons evolved into parkour and then to street-fighting competitions. Meanwhile, they train each other in what they learn from their respective teachers during their free time.

His cousins, Fester Addams and Gomez Addams, quickly became jealous of his extracurricular lessons. Despite this, Bruce has since made up with his cousins because as cousin Gomez said ‘We are family first and foremost! We cannot stay unbearably mad at each other for long.’ Still, his lessons, especially the less than legal ones, remained a sore point. It got to such a point that last month Aunt Eudora Addams hired a circus acrobatic, a swordsman, and a conman to teach Fester and Gomez after school. On cousin Fester’s suggestion, they each decided to wait until winter vacation to teach each other what they've learned. 

* * *

**Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New York, New York City, Haly's Circus, Big Tent

 **POV:** Jeremiah Anthony Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

Jeremiah gives a sweeping bow, his back to his twin brother Jerome. They're being showered from all sides with white and red roses, actual cash and several coins. Jerome’s, presumably, giving his own bow after their last performance of the night. They’re surrounded by the indistinct roar of the crowds filling the air with cheers and wild screams. As metahumans with hypersensitive hearing, it’s overwhelming but he and Jerome have long since grown used to dealing with daily circus life. They haven't received such a loud and heartfelt applause since the Graysons began their acrobatic stunts last month. The change is most welcome. 

‘The Valeska Twins’ weren't the final act or even the main attraction but judging by the roar of the crowd, the roses and straight cash they’re still receiving ‘The Valeska Twins’ have been the best act today. It's a warm-heady feeling to receive such a response on any day. Given this has been their last performance for the spring season it simply makes everything bittersweet. Judging by The Ringmaster’s, Edwardo Valentino’s, poorly masked worry it's clear the circus will miss them dearly. Meaning they're sure to be welcomed back after their break. Jeremiah shares a conspiring grin with his twin brother, Jerome, before they backflip away in opposite directions causing the crowd to roar louder.

Jeremiah meets up with Jerome outside prepared to ask him if he's ready before Jerome presses a finger to his painted lips while looking pointedly toward the tent wall behind them. At that moment, an abrupt hush befalls the main tent. Soon after they can hear The Ring Master praising their act before announcing the news that “‘The-Valeska-Twins’ are unfortunately leaving the circus tonight and have likely left the premises already”. He's hardly gotten the sentence out of his mouth before the crowds roar outraged and jeer insults aimed at the circus and The Ring Master himself. As soon as the crowds begin to get angsty Jerome takes Jeremiah’s hand and begins a mad-dash toward their gleaming silver Airstream trailer and custom lime-green Chevy-pickup. Jeremiah obediently follows mindful of the inhuman grip on his wrist. He giggles along with Jerome’s mad cackles as they run the whole way. 

* * *

**Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Lower East Side of The Narrows, Park Row Apartments, Penthouse Suite

 **POV:** Bruce Wayne **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

Bruce startles from his thoughts at the sound of his own burner phone ringing. Given the safety precautions, he goes through to keep this phone a secret from his staff and the public he answers without checking the caller-ID. “Hello?” 

“Cousin Brucie, you sly dog!” Gomez cheers through the receiver before taking in a puff from what is presumably a cigar. “You have the whole nation searching for you, old man! You've not been gone from the public eye for 24 hours. Yet we've already had the FBI at our door twice now!”

“What? The FBI?” Bruce asks, turning off the stove and moving to plate the last pancake.

“Yes! It's ridiculous!” Aunt Eudora huffs out amused speaking a little distance away. “You have this entire nation wrapped around your little finger, child. They can't even go a day without your face haunting them. But don't you worry. We sent them away and your Uncle Reppeli secured the house and the phone lines. Those morons didn't even have probable cause let alone a warrant! So tell us, how have you been? You're safe?”

“I’m safe. I’m with Selina. We plan to wait out the inevitable storm.” Bruce explains. “She's still in her room asleep.”

“You normally do your stretches and paces while everyone's in bed. We didn't interrupt something did we?” cousin Fester croaks concerned.

“No, not at all. Selina’s phone interrupted my routine at about-” Bruce looks to the dark sky outside then to the digital clock on the wall. “An hour ago? The sun was still coming up at any rate. Don't worry, I was just making breakfast. You didn't wake me.”

“That's good. At least you're not alone during this.” Uncle Repeli says, sounding pleased. “So you two are at some safehouse, I presume?”

“Yeah, my apartment.”

“Oh no!” Fester shrieks, clearly panicked.

“Not one of those your parents had?!” Aunt Eudora asks, also sounding panicked.

“Bruce, old boy.” Uncle Repeli says, oddly urgent and worried. “Listen to me. If that apartment is on the books you need to high tail it outta there, pronto! That company of yours has arranged a nationwide search for you. They're already checking Addams's blood members. They're sure to find you at a family property.”

“No, no.” Bruce assures “This one’s under my Addams name with the legal-alias-surname my parents had set up for me.”

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Aunt Eudora sighs.

“Well that's alright then isn't it?” Uncle Repeli says, sounding pleased. “So, have any plans to visit your family during the month you and your dear friend are in hiding?”

“Yes,” Bruce quickly agrees. “Well, we plan to anyway. You guys still haven't met Selina. I seriously doubt she's my match but she's my best friend nonetheless.”

“A friend of yours is a friend of the family, you know.” Aunt Eudora voices.

“And a friend of the family is a friend of the clan.” Bruce, Fester, and Gomez echo.

“Exactly.” Uncle Repeli agrees. “Now, we’ll let you get back to your breakfast. You tell that girl of yours, match or not, we’re happy to call her family.”

“Alright.” Bruce readily agrees before a *YAwn* escapes him.

“And get some rest, deaire.” Aunt Eudora cajoles “It's only 7 am after all. Just because we can't sleep doesn't mean we always need to do things.” 

"I need to do something with my time, Aunt Eudora, and I can't exactly go anywhere." Bruce scoffs "Wayne Enterprises are already acting as though I've been kidnapped or worse."

"Don't you worry about that search your company has created for you, Bruce old boy." Uncle Repeli consoles him. "They're way out of bounds. They have no cause legally or ethically to hold against your will any longer. Reaching 14 was the deal our lawyers made for you to become legally-emancipated. You signed and filed all of the forms last year. You skipping a day of school, and as an adult no less, was no reason to prompt nationwide search. Everyone knows you've already turned in your work for the year and are only attending class and school functions to pass the time. We've already let the facts slip to the media through our sources. Our lawyers suspected something like this may happen and are already on the case."

"What about my Sweet Sixteen?" Bruce asks, concerned. "It's bad luck to not have one, not to mention the Addams family tradition."

"Oh, don't you worry about not attending that stuffy shindig your butler and staff have surely prepared." Uncle Replei scoffs.

"We've already arranged the party for you, dearie." Aunt Eudora assures. "Neither of your parents threw a public party and public Sweet Sixteen's are far less common than the media leads the masses to believe."

"Who all's coming?"

"Family, and close clan only." Aunt Eudora assures "Just make sure you and Selina are here by the 20th. We'll be holding a week-long party after having a small celebration with just us."

"But, if you meet your match before then you make sure to bring them too!" Gomez shouts "It's especially common for our family to meet our matches the week our marks appear."

"They're drawn to us." Fester tacks on. 

"I know the family customs and History." Bruce laughs

"Good," Aunt Eudora states as the sound of the door gong filters through the phone.

"Those damned Government agents are back again!" Uncle Repeili shouts enraged "Eudora, call our lawyers. Lurch, the boys and I need our guns. Thank you, Lurch. Boys, follow me."

"We'll have them cleaned out before your party, don't you worry, dearie." Aunt Eudora states before promptly hanging up.

Bruce frowns at the receiver before turning back to his, now cold, breakfast and placing it into the microwave.

* * *

 **Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New York, New York City, Haly's Circus, The Valeska Twins Pickup Truck

 **POV:** Jeremiah Anthony Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

When the twins reach their trailer they don't even take the time to shower. Jerome and Jeremiah just wipe the makeup off their faces, change into street clothes, and rush out. Jeremiah double-checks to make sure their truck’s still able to run while Jerome double-checks their trailer is still secure, road-ready, and hitched to the truck. It wouldn't be the first time their mother, or one of her boy-toys, tried to prevent them from leaving and it surely won't be the last. With Lilla Valeska so obviously planning on profiting from their soul-matches they can't risk it. Not this time. 

They only have three days to get to their safe-house in Gotham City, New Jersey. It's risky hiding in Gotham City. Their father lives there in his mansion. Not to mention the hotels, law firms, and business in his name. Unfortunately, the weight of the Valeska name follows them everywhere in the country. Hiding in the eye of the storm only seems logical. Jeremiah’s pen-friend and online assistant, Ecco, arranged an apartment for them in the Lower East Side of The Narrows. It's probably the only place shady enough to rent out an entire apartment floor to a teenager so long as the rent is covered. Ecco vouched for them and paid the first half of the rent up-front but they still need to show up and pay the rest. 

They’ve never met Ecco personally. They only know her through emails and text sent under her pen-name, Ecco94, but she’s in the same boat. Ecco only knows them as Mr.J19 and Joker96. Still yet, she’s willing to help them with this. Well, she is so long as they finally use this opportunity to meet face-to-face and extend her the same courtesy. Apparently she's in a similar boat with her parents and needs somewhere to lie low when her mark or marks come in. From what they've gathered she’s from money, like them, and her parents want her to forgo a career and settle down. Meanwhile, Ecco wants to go to college, live her life, and get away from her parents' overbearing influence.

Jeremiah has finished checking the truck’s engine, gas, and brake line. Unfortunately, Jerome seems to have found some issue with the trailer's hookup. Jeremiah spends the extra time cleaning his face of any lingering stage-makeup and then reapplying acceptable street-makeup. He's just finished replying eyeliner, and chapstick when he spots their mother and her newest boy-toy, Mack or Mitch or _something._ The pair are quickly making their way through the Circus parking lot. They’re both openly carrying ropes, guns and daggers. Knowing his mother, those are NOT props. She's always considered fakes to cheapen the act. A rare sediment he and Jerome share with their mother. 

“Jay, in the truck now!” Jeremiah shouts out the window over the roar of the nearby screams from fair rides and bratty children.

Their mother is obviously searching the area for any witnesses to whatever scheme she has planned next. “Jeremiah, dear!” Lila Valeska calls happily upon spotting him in the truck. “ _Come over here_ , and _greet_ your mother!” she beacons sounding sickeningly sweet. Her pet pythons lift their heads at her voice and begin to slither down from where they were hidden among the ropes. The few civilians parked nearby scatter but stay back to watch the proceedings and a few even take out their I-phones to record. 

Jeremiah nearly jumps out of his seat when the driver's side door opens revealing Jerome’s face. “Slide over.”

“What took you!” Jeremiah hisses out enraged, while mindlessly obeying his brother's request and moving across the black leather bucket seat.

“Had to re-secure the trailer,” Jerome responds while sliding in. “Someone took a chainsaw to the hookup. Now, hold on tight.” Jerome orders over the sound of their mother screaming their names. 

Jerome hits the gas and pulls out into the side-alley they parked beside. At the same time, gunshots and their mother’s enraged screams fill the air. Normally an old Chevy Truck and an Airstream Land Yacht wouldn't be able to speed away from a shootout unharmed. Then again, normally a pickup-truck wouldn't be able to handle the weight of a Fifth-Wheeler for three generations. Thankfully the Valeska family are a paranoid and ingenious bunch on top of being multi-billionaires. 

* * *

**POV:** Narrator

The The-Valeska-Twins’s paternal grandparents were Mrs Roseline Valeska and Mr. Damian Valeska. The late Mrs. and Mr. Valeska hand-built their seemingly normal Airstream Trailer and Chevy Truck out of state-of-the-art bullet-proof and element-proof material during the '60s and the '70s. They used it exclusively for fishing-hunting trips and mini-vacations before passing it onto their son, Anthony Valeska on his 14th birthday. Anthony Valeska spent two years in the 80's upgrading the trailer to comfortably withstand extreme cold and heat while adding the latest in hunting gear and military defensive technology to the trailer's interior. Meanwhile, the truck was upgraded with his spare drag-racing parts and more defensive military technology. Anthony Valeska used the truck and trailer for fishing-hunting trips, the occasional unexpected street-race, and weekend mini-vacations. 

Following tradition, The-Valeska-Twins, Jerome and Jeremiah, inherited the Chevy Pickup Truck and Airstream Land Yacht Trailer combo on their 14th birthday. They obviously remodelled the trailer's outdated and stained 60’s interior to fit the needs of their daily life as a circus act and repainted the neon-blue truck neon-green. Lesser known, but not completely unexpected, is that they tricked both the trailer and truck out. The hidden custom gadgets and gear wouldn't be out of place in an action movie, or perhaps more accurately a circus act. They started by replacing each shot out the window with two new panels of bulletproof glass. They then inspected the quality of the old steel-lined titanium outer-shell and kevlar-interlining and repaired or replaced it where needed. Next, they replaced the worn down off-road tires for army grade tires. 

After the basics were finished, the twins updated the AC and Heating units throughout the trailer. It was a blow to the budget their father gave them but they, thankfully, discovered the air vents and air ducts were filled with dust and grime while painting so they had to be replaced. They went ahead and updated the electric wiring and the sockets while they were at it not wanting all their hard work to go out in an electrical fire. The stained and faded floral wallpaper covering EVERY ROOM was painstakingly stripped down and replaced with leftover olive-green paint from one of the fair rides. 

Jerome replaced the aluminium door with steel lined with Kevlar and then another layer of steel. They then replaced both the set of keys and locks to the trailer and the truck. Jeremiah took the opportunity to add additional security with trick-locks and a final keypad-fingerprint combo on the trailer door. Their bedroom was the easiest to renovate. They left it as one room but replaced the queen-sized waterbed with the king-size mattress they stole three years prior. The hallway was taken up by massive benches, shelving units, and a fold-out-table. They replaced the benches and the table with a walk through closet and updated the oak shelving. 

They spent the last year completely gutting the plumbing system in the kitchen and bathroom. While they were at it they bought a new toilet and removed the teal and yellow tile in both rooms. They replaced the tile throughout the trailer with white-marble and stained all the oak features throughout the trailer black. Before the twins were finished they replaced the fridge, both sinks, the microwave, and the stove just to be safe. They finished the renovations last month.

Their mother and her boy-toy chased after them shooting wildly and making a spectacle of themselves. With two-planes of bullet-proof glass per-window, a steel-lined titanium outer-shell with kevlar interlining and army grade tires, their truck and trailer remain unharmed. Meanwhile, The-Valeska-Twins sped away in a truck and trailer designed to race and be underestimated. Their deranged mother and her newest boy-toy never even stood a chance.


	4. Chapter 4

#  **Chapter Four. Friends will be Friends**

* * *

####  **Date:** Monday, April 8th, 2010 **\-- Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Lower East Side of The Narrows, Park Row Apartments, Penthouse Suite **  
** **POV:** Selina Maria Kyle **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Hellcat-Metahuman-Hybrid

15-year-old Selina Kyle slowly finishes waking herself up with her morning yoga stretches before giving an overly dramatic *YaWn*and following her nose to the kitchen. “Smells good,” Selina says pausing to give Bruce a friendly kiss on the cheek before moving toward the fridge.

“You slept late,” Bruce says, looking up from the pot of stew he's stirring.

“Didn't realize we were on a schedule,” Selina comments sarcastically while picking up the half-full milk carton from the fridge. "Oh, wait." She says pausing to *GaSp* dramatically and places a hand over her heart. "We're not." She deadpans before taking a long gulp from the milk-carton.

"But, Selena! I was sooo bored." Bruce playfully whines. "I haven't seen a stack of paperwork or a textbook for HOURS!" Bruce complains, with a realistic frown.

"Oh, I know, it's horrible!" Selina cries out acting outraged "And just think what we'll have to put up with!” she shouts while raising her fist into the air. “An entire MONTH without maids and over-glorified babysitters watching our every move."

"No one, secretly hating us or our family's wealth!" Bruce cries out before giving a *GAsP* "No one, no one who's constantly threatening to call the media and our own lawyers if we don't let them use us as living dolls to play dress up." Bruce tacks on as tears begin to gather in his eyes. 

"No one to tell us how we need to talk and walk or what to say every second of the day!" Selena declares while Bruce brakes into extremely realistic sobs. "What will we do" *Sniff* "now that we can think and act for ourselves?!" Selina demands with a cut off sob as a tear falls out of the corner of her eye.

"It's every P.A.'s worst nightmare." Bruce chokes out while furiously wiping his eyes of tears before suddenly dropping the act. "Seriously though, Selena, if we don't manage to survive the fallout from this, I want you to know you're my best friend."

"And you, Bruce, are my best friend." Selina declares with a smile. "And I won't let anyone come between that. Which is why if The Plan doesn't work we have thousands of backup contingency plans already in place."

"We only have 23 plans." Bruce corrects moving back to stirring the pot of stew. "And only 16 of those plans have been put in place."

"See that's your problem, Bruce," Selena says, pausing to take another sip of milk straight from the gallon.

"What's my problem?" Bruce demands while moving to lean against the stove and cross his arms.

"You plan too much then don't know how to react if something doesn't go according to plan," Selena replies, with a shrug. "It's why you're lucky you have me."

* * *

####  **Date:** Monday, April 7th, 2010 **\--Location:** Earth, United States of America, New Jersey, Gotham City, Lower East Side of The Narrows, Park Row Apartments, The Valeska Twins Pickup Truck **  
** **POV:** Jeremiah Anthony Valeska **\-- Age:** 15 **\-- Species:** Vampiric-Metahuman Hybrid

“Turn Right at the next light.” Jeremiah makes a right turn before taking a sip of his nuke-warm blood as he pulls into the side street. “In five feet make a left turn.” Jeremiah raises his eyebrow at the sketchy apartment complex in the equally sketchy neighbourhood but obeys the GPS. “You have reached your destination.”

“Finally,” Jeremiah mutters. “We’re here Jay,” Jeremiah informs his brother. “Jay,” Jeremiah says, shaking his brother from his phone.

“Hold on,” Jerome mutters “I’ve almost got this- YES!” Okay, what's- The hell kind of place is this?!” Jerome demands.

“Our new apartment complex,” Jeremiah explains leaning back in the seat and stretching.

“What?” Jerome asks before beginning to panic “No no no! There's bars on the windows, Miah!”

“Uh-huh.” Jeremiah agrees, picking up his phone to check his messages. “Bars on the windows in the shape of diamonds.”

“Those are bulletproof windows, Miah!”

“Yep, triple planned bulletproof stained glass windows.”

“There are fucking thugs guarding a padlocked steel door, Jeremiah!” Jerome snaps

“Those are the guards, Jerome.” Jeremiah states with an eye roll. “We wanted the most secure apartment complex Gotham City has to offer. This is it.”

“You wanted, secure! I wanted a pool!” Jerome shouts pissed off. “Neither of us even wanted to be  _ in _ Gotham,” Jerome mutters under his breath. “I doubt this place even has an A/C!” His brother shouts as an afterthought.

“Their AC and heating is electric and runs on an inhouse generator. The apartments are up-top while the bottom-half doubles as a hotel and casino combo.”

“While that's admittedly awesome, I _wanted_ a pool.” Jerome interrupts in a growl before turning to glare at him. “I remember _specifically_ _asking_ you to make sure they have a pool. I gave you a downpayment for the place when _you said they had a pool_. Not to mention the fact were in Gotham City! You know, the very City we were supposed to be avoiding?” Jerome states with a fierce glare.

“If you would  _ let me finish _ , you would know they have three indoor pools, Jay,” Jeremiah says with a glare. “One of the pools even has a three-story slide and connects to a splash pad. That's practically a waterpark. Since it doubles as a hotel and casino there's; a day spa, a ballroom, a club, and two restaurants not to mention the bar. The penthouse suites even come with a garage for our stuff. And it's better to be in Gotham because no one will think to look for us here.”

Jerome squints sceptically at the building before growling low in his throat. “Fine. But it's still sketchy.”

“Look. Okay, I know this place looks sketchy but it's not that way inside. I've spent two years looking over photos and reading reviews. I even paid a down payment last year for blueprints of the second-largest penthouse. Echo even lives part-time in a two-bedroom. She gave me a video tour of the place yesterday. It has everything we looked for in a home with the added benefit of being in Gotham City. There were only three other places that met our criteria. They wouldn't think twice before calling the cops on two teenagers looking for a place to rent.”

Jerome pouts for a moment before sighing. “I guess anywhere willing to rent a place to a coupla’ teens would at least haveta’ look sketchy.”

“Exactly. Besides you're allowed to make modifications to the upper floors.”

Jeremiah watches as Jerome looks up and smiles. “The upper floors don't have bars on the windows!! Miah, look! There's even patios that overlook the city!” 

“Yep! Not to mention they have bulletproof glass and much better security. Now common' I promised we’d meet Echo in the lobby.” Jeremiah says hoping out.

“Why?”

“We’re meeting with the owner and his head of security. Apparently we need to be added into the system.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer**  
>  Hey everyone, CrystalAzul here! This is your regular reminder that I do not own DC, Batman, The Addams Family, nor anything else recognizable from a canon universe. As you can imagine I would be insanely rich if I did. I do own this fanfiction story as it is a product of my imagination and my creativity. I, however, am making no monetary profit from this fanfiction. I am merely playing in the created universes of those far more famous than myself. Hope you enjoy reading my fanfiction! :)
> 
> So, I was bored with writer's block and stumbled upon the Batjokes side of DC fandom. Needless to say, this is my first Batjokes and HarIvy fanfiction and I’m new to shipping BatJokes. My approach to canon is basically to cherry-pick the things I like and blatantly ignore or work around the things I don't. I use inspiration from the fandom to fill in the blanks. This will be reflected in my fanfictions. My approach to fanfiction is to blend two (or more) canon stories and create a NEW story from that.
> 
> This fanfiction is AU and the result of me blending the fandoms and storylines of Batman and The Addams Family. Both universes technically exist together (alongside the Scooby-Doo fandom, which won't be mentioned) but they are so rarely portrayed as such. Additionally, both universes have too damn many canon (and non-canon but generally accepted as canon) storylines. Naturally, as someone who specializes in writing fanfiction crossovers, it’s right up my alley.


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